


Beflowered & Inebriated

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: FLOWER CROWNS EVERYWHERE, Flower Crowns, M/M, headcanon more like HEADCRACK AMIRITE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower crowns are the thing. Dean and Aidan are drunk, but Aidan moreso. Aidan won't stop talking. Also: FLOWER CROWNS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beflowered & Inebriated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ocaptainrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocaptainrogers/gifts), [bluepeony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepeony/gifts), [thorinshielding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorinshielding/gifts).



> This sprung from some joking around between myself and Sarah ([beornsbees](http://beornsbees.tumblr.com/)/[themlittlesummerthings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themlittlesummerthings)), and then also Wing ([thorinshielding](http://thorinshielding.tumblr.com/)) about Aidean getting married wearing flower crowns. It became a monster of a crackcanon. And then as I struggled to write prompt fills, THIS HAPPENED. 
> 
> I am only slightly ashamed.

It’s the silliest, most ridiculously fabulous thing. And it would figure that Ian McKellen – _Sir_ Ian McKellen – would be the perpetrator of something so outrageous.

Dean probably should have expected that Ian would show up on their first morning back wearing, of all things, a crown of flowers on his head. Dean hadn’t been expecting it, and had therefore been in tears, laughing along with everyone else as Gandalf pranced around G stage like a twisted old fairy, blessing everyone within reach of his staff. “What’s so funny?” Ian would ask in his Gandalf voice, “Is there something on my face?”

The joke never really died, and Graham had taken his turn one day, showing up ready to show some Goblins exactly what his axes could do, a flower crown propped around his bald Dwarf head like an exercise sweatband. He had stayed in Dwalin mode, chasing James around and aggressively asking for a hug. Sure enough, the next day had seen Bofur, Nori, Dori and Ori walk out of the prosthetics trucks with delicate little floral tiaras gracing their Dwarven wigs. Later in the day, Bombur had been seen with flowers not in his hair, but woven into the giant beard braid that spanned his vast chest.

The Elves had not been excluded, although it was almost unfair; Lee was already wearing a crown made of twigs anyway, and Evey – well, she’s a female Elf. Orlando hadn’t lasted very long in his flower crown, and by the end of the day, the crown had been on the head of several stunties, _and_ Stephen Fry, before finally ending up on Luke’s.

So flower crowns became the thing, and it had reached its pinnacle of funny when one day Richard – _RICHARD_ – was driven into B stage with a crown of flowers thick enough to rival the fur pelt around his neck. Aidan had died of laughter then, falling to the floor and clutching Dean’s legs as Richard, with the most deadpan look on his face, had taken his place in the middle of Mirkwood Forest, more serious than a heart attack as he took out Orcrist and began to play it like a guitar. It had been widely voted to be the best display of royalty by flowers, and it was soon accepted that there would be no way that would have been topped.

And so the reign of the flower crown had come to quite an eventful end, much to the chagrin of Ian.

And yet here they all are, beers in hand, talking and joking as if they all weren’t aren’t wearing flower crowns on their heads. All of them. All because Graham and Richard thought it would be a nice little gesture for Ian’s last ever day on the set of a Jackson Tolkien movie. The party at the studio had long ended, and most of the cast had retreated to Dean and Aidan’s rented house, the closest to the studios, to continue the celebration.

“How in the world did it come to this, eh?” Dean chuckles, more than a little inebriated, as Aidan plops himself down beside him on the couch, his head getting comfortable on Dean’s shoulder.

“I think it’s cute,” Aidan replies, slurring just slightly, “We look like princesses.”

“ _You_ look like a princess,” Dean answers, “I look like I just won a derby.”

“Well, you _do_ ride hard,” Aidan says, and Dean doesn’t need to see the ridiculous waggling of his eyebrows to know what that means.

“Go home, Aidan, you’re drunk,” Dean chuckles.

“I’m not drunk, _you’re_ drunk,” Aidan shoots back, clearly half-wrong. But they laugh, both of them, because after the week they’ve had, it’s nice to get even a few hours to just sit back and not _do anything_.

“You do look nice though,” hums Aidan as he wriggles into Dean’s side anymore, hugging Dean’s arm in both of his and dropping a kiss on his shoulder, “You look like you couldn’t hurt a fly. Which is actually true, coz you’re a delicate little puppy.”

“I’m seriously going to hit you in about two minutes,” Dean snorts.

“No you’re not,” Aidan replies, nuzzling into Dean’s neck, “You’re my sweet, delicate little puppy. And you’re wearing a tiara made out of flowers. You’re perfect.”

“You are so ridiculously lit,” Dean scoffs, “I should take you to bed or something, before you hurt yourself from thinking too much.”

But Aidan doesn’t seem to be done rambling. “Imagine getting married like this,” Aidan sighs, probably unaware of the things flying out of his mouth, “You and me wearing flower crowns, and you’re wearing that red checker jacket I like, and I’ll be wearing, like, I dunno, maybe the green plaid shirt you hate so much just because it’s green, and green isn’t a creative colour. And we’ll be married in a chapel made entirely of flowers. Yeah, and there’ll be a cake. And the cake will have flowers. It’ll be a cake made of flowers. And there’ll be bouquets and flower stands, and you know what? They’ll be made of flowers too. Flowers made out of flowers. Yeah, that’d be nice. Just...Flowers. Flowers everywhere.”

But Dean has barely heard majority of Aidan’s monologue. He’s staring at him curiously, his brain seeming to have shut down. He’s not even sure he’s breathing.

“Aid,” he says softly, tentatively, “Did you just say ‘married?’”

Aidan blinks a couple of times, then smiles that little Muppet smile of his, the one that makes him look very much like a baby otter (albeit one wearing a floral headpiece right now). “Mmhmm,” he replies rather jovially.

Dean returns the blinking. “I...” he starts, “Aid, you...You imagine us getting married?”

Aidan shrugs, as if it’s not the biggest deal in the world. “Why not?” he asks, cocking his head, the crown slipping slightly, “I mean, you know, some time in the future, maybe a couple of years from now, you know? I think it’d be nice.”

He’s still grinning at Dean, who can’t tell if he’s being serious or if this is the alcohol talking. “I hope you’re hearing yourself right now,” Dean tells him, “Would you really want that?”

“...Want what?”

“To get married.”

“To who?”

“To me, idiot, you were just talking about it.”

“About what?”

“About getting married!”

“Oh, right. Imagine us getting married like this, Dean...”

“Yes, you’ve said that already.”

“Said?”

“Yes! You want to marry me!”

“...It’s a bit sudden, Deano, but okay.”

Dean lets out a punched-out chuckle of surprise and frustration. “That wasn’t a proposal, you egg,” he laughs.

“...Oh,” Aidan answers, and he sounds just a little disappointed, “Too bad, coz I was just thinking about us one day getting married in these flower crowns...”

“Aid...” Dean trails off, incredulous but amused, “You are way too precious, you know that?”

Aidan’s smile turns sweet, and he leans forward just enough. Dean meets his lips with his own. It’s not a particularly sexy kiss, but they’ve had plenty of that. This one is just simple and romantic and says things they probably don’t know the words for right now. It doesn’t last long, but that’s okay; plenty of other things about them do.

“So we’re agreed then,” Aidan says, settling back into his position with his head on Dean’s shoulder, only this time one of his hands is in Dean’s.

“Yeah, I think we are,” Dean sighs, and if he were a lot less drunk, he’d probably feel the contentment racing through his veins and causing him to press closer to Aidan.

“Mmm, I like that,” Aidan breathes, eyes slipping shut as Dean plants a kiss in his hair, careful to not wreck the petals, “Flower crowns. Flower crowns everywhere.”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Aidan Turner.”

 

**_~ END. ~_ **

 


End file.
